Dreams
by MiniM0ffat
Summary: When Sherlock is injured on a case, he is suprised to take an immeadiate recovery. The only thing to remind Sherlock of the experience are the frequent dreams that continue to haunt him.
1. The Gun

Sherlock's POV

I never thought that it would be me that would end up in such a complex situation. Well, one that I myself found difficult. John Watson had always told me that I was too ignorant for my own good. And one day, just one day, I'll need someone to help me. Oh and how I regret scoffing, rolling my eyes and answering with "John, I'm probably the smartest person in the entire of London, besides Mycroft, I'll never need help, especially on a case." It wasn't what I said that upset John. It was the fact that I said it without a hint of hesitation.

There I was, held at gun point whilst my blogger was out getting drunk with Mary... Not thinking about me. John Watson and I had never fully seen eye to eye (mainly due to the fact that he believes that sentiment is what makes a person human... And I don't).

I'd never thought that I was going to die before. I knew that eventually age will catch up to me. I'd always be intelligent enough to have a plan for getting out of a rough patch, but this time, I didn't know what I was going to do.

"So Mr Holmes, are you going to tell me who you are working for? Or are you going to die?"

My masked murderer seemed so at ease, perhaps he wasn't planning on killing me at all, or maybe he'd murdered so many people that a single Sociopath was not going to have an affect on him.

"I don't work for anyone." I replied instantly, I almost sounded sarcastic, putting emphasis on the 'work'. Who does he think I am?

"Mr Holmes, I will not harm you if you admit that you are working for someone. Your title 'Consulting Detective' suggests that you are hired, Mr Holmes, they consult you." Oh this man was clever. Cleverer than I had anticipated...

"I've told you before, Sir, I do not work for anyone."

That was when I heard the bang, my sight was gone, and I felt numb.


	2. The First Dream

"John, my head still hurts!" I complained to my friend. He's a Doctor after all; there should be something he can do!

"Awh! Is my little Sherlock experiencing emotions?" John said patronizingly. I shot Dr. Watson my warning glare and he immediately changed the subject, "Mary's coming around later, be on your best behaviour, and remember her name."

"John, I feel as if you do not know me." I said sarcastically. I wasn't exactly sure how to respond to my friend. I knew however that I had annoyed the Doctor.

"Sherlock," John paused, took a deep breath, and carried on, "Just go to bed or something..." I know I'd been annoying over the past couple of days but not enough for my best friend to completely ignore me. I gave John another look before storming out of the room. How dare he tell me to go away when I'm in the state that I am? Obviously I know where stand. After Mary.

I gripped my head tightly. The pain was bearable; I just didn't want to be distracted from my work. 'Go to sleep. Just go to sleep.' I got into my uncomfortable bed and turned over into a more comfortable position. I then let the sleep I'd missed out on over the past thirty years take over.

I was being watched. I was only walking back from the morgue. Black car. Gun. Darkened room.

I woke up suddenly, sweating and screaming John's name.

'Sherlock?!' John Watson came running into my room, closely followed by Mary. I felt my face heat up with embarrassment.

"Remember to send Molly her birthday card tomorrow." I made up, acting completely calm.

"Yeah, I know, I posted it a couple of days ago." John gave me an unconvinced look and both Mary and John left my room.

"Oh God" I muttered to myself, "Why? Why would I let something as pathetic as a dream scare me so much?" Scared. Yes that was what I felt. Actual fear.


	3. Coffee

I woke up early the next day. I seemed to survive the night… Somehow.

Coffee, that was what I needed, especially after that awful night I had. I needed to be woken up. I filled the kettle in the kitchen with cold water, and put it on to boil.

"John, how did I survive?" I wondered aloud, "Wasn't I shot in the head?"

John was sat in his usual seat in front of our small television. He placed his tea cup neatly on the mat and turned awkwardly in his seat to face me.

"In all honesty Sherlock; I do not know. I've never heard of such a miracle before." I shrugged slightly and completed my coffee before taking a seat next to John. "So what was yesterday all about then?" I knew that John was not going to drop the subject but I couldn't tell him that I am being affected by ridiculous dreams.

"Oh nothing." I sighed, hoping that he will not keep on, "Going out with Mary today I see? Don't worry about me I'm going to the morgue. I'm sure Molly will keep an eye on me John." I comforted my friend.

We sat in silence for the rest of the program… Whatever it was. How ridiculous! A man with a time machine? Like they'll ever exist, it goes against logic entirely. When the credits started to roll I stood up and left the room.

'I'm coming to the morgue. Save me some thumbs please? Mrs Hudson binned my last set.

-SH'

I quickly sent the text to Molly and slid my phone into my jacket's pocket. I picked up my scarf and headed towards the front door.

"I'll be back at seven o'clock. Eat without me." And with that I put my scarf and coat on and made my way to the morgue.


	4. Thumbs

"Good morning Molly! And how are you today?" I walked into the morgue like it was my home. I almost skipped over to my own desk that Molly had set up for me. The morgue was the only place where I could be myself. Not have to be careful what I say at 221B when Mary's over. Or not being able to get excited over kidnappings and murders at the Police Station. No, I loved the morgue.

"Hello!" Molly was always so excited to see me; I guess she enjoys the company, "I'm fine thank you! How are you?" She gave me a warm smile. Molly's one of the only people to give me a genuine smile.

"I'm having a rather wonderful day thank you. John's out all day, and probably night, with Mary so I have the flat to myself. I plan on discovering what happens to nails after death. I presume the thumbs are in my fridge?" I spoke rather quickly as I usually did. Molly probably only caught the end of what I was saying, but this doesn't bother her, she knows other people have no idea what I say either.

"There's no room in your fridge. Lord knows what you keep in there. They're in my fridge next to the cupboard." She sighed. She's more worried about health and safety than anyone I have ever met.

"Yes I know where your fridge is. And I know what I keep in that fridge and it has nothing to do with you." I retrieved the thumbs and placed them in another carrier bag so that I won't be questioned when I get in the cab.

"You're not leaving already?" Molly asked, attempting to hide how hurt she was, and failing.

"Well. I was going to but considering you clearly want some company I can stay for a while." I said awkwardly. I hate changing my plans to suit other people. It's the nice thing to do in this situation I suppose.

"Will you? Thank you Sherlock! I'll finish up these last three bodies and we can go and get lunch together. If you want to?"

"Sounds like a plan. I'll need something to do though. Want me to take some notes on the bodies? My handwriting is better than yours."


	5. Lunch with Molly and Holly

With the help of myself, Molly and I finished the reports on all of the corpses before one o'clock. I waited a while for Molly to clean and put everything away before we made our way to the cafeteria. Many people started their lunch at twelve o'clock so the dining hall wasn't uncomfortably busy.

"What do you want?" Molly asked, "Oh I'll pay for it." She added quickly. I really wasn't hungry.

"Perhaps a coffee please? I'll go and catch a table."

Molly nodded before heading off to the short queue to get her food. I made my way to a small table in the corner of the cafeteria. I had always tried to avoid people as much as possible; I suppose it has developed into a habit.

I took a seat so that I could still see everyone else. I liked deducing people in places like this. You never fail to come across someone who has a peculiar background.

"No!" A young female woman, approximately twenty-seven years old, approached me. She looked completely shocked, "You aren't… Sherlock Holmes… are you?"

I cleared my throat awkwardly, "Uh, yes I am. Sorry, do I know you?" Of course I didn't know her. I'd know if I did.

"Oh sorry! Where are my manners? I'm Holly. I see you on the news all the time! The man who faked his death!" Holly seemed extremely excited upon seeing me. I could never understand why. I'm not exactly a famous Actor.

"I faked my death for a good cause. Not publicity. I'm afraid my friend is about to see you and grow extremely jealous of you. I suggest you leave. Have a nice day." I spoke fast, making sure Holly knew I was in a hurry.

"Ok. I understand. Perhaps we could go out for a coffee later?" She sounded remarkably hopeful. She most certainly didn't know me at all.

"I'm far too busy I am afraid."

Holly then whispered something along the lines 'Well I'll see you around then…' and walked off. Clearly I had annoyed her somehow. I do not understand some people.

Just as Holly had walked off, Molly had approached the table and eyed me suspiciously. "Who was she then?" She questioned.

"Holly. Twenty-seven, parent's divorced, reads far too many detective stories, has a half-brother that she gets along with better than her mother and is only here because her friend had told her that I come here often. She also asked me out. Don't worry, I declined." Molly stared at me from across the round table. Her jaw slightly dropped.


	6. Mycroft

After Molly and I had finished lunch, she went back to the Mortuary, I however returned to Bakers Street. I climbed the stairs to 221B and was surprised to see John already there, waiting for me.

"I have some news Sherlock." He spoke slowly, carefully even. I hung my coat and scarf up on the peg next to the door and signalled John to continue, "You weren't shot," Pause, "You were hit across the head with the gun," Pause, "You heard a fake noise of a gun being shot. It was a trick, Sherlock, to see if you could work it out," Pause, "That's why you survived." John sighed. He was obviously relieved that I was not a subject to some miracle.

"John you do need to speak quicker and more clearly like me. You're a goldfish compared to myself. I had my suspicions that I was not actually shot as there would be no possible way anyone could survive that. However, that does not explain why I do not feel hardly any pain at all."

"Oh I don't know," John spoke jokingly, "Perhaps you deleted pain from your 'emotion' palace. Along with every other emotion! A thank you would be nice Sherlock!" John's anger escalated quickly.

"I do not have an emotion palace. And I'd like you to know that I feel far more emotions than you think! Thank you John, for being so helpful whilst I was confused about how I survived. I really appreciate it!" And with that I left John once more. I wasn't sure where I was going, but I knew I had just left my flat on a cold winter's night, without my coat and scarf. I wasn't sure how John responded to me as I had left before he had managed to reply.

My text alert sounded and I sighed as I retrieved my phone from my pocket, expecting a text from John.

'Come over mine.

-MH'

I preferred to read a text from John rather than Mycroft.

'Why?

-SH'

'Sherlock, John told me, now be a good boy and hurry up!

MH'

I sighed once more and turned in the opposite direction to Mycroft's house. Or mansion should I say? It took no longer than ten minutes before I was stood outside Mycroft's front door in the pouring rain.

"Ahh, brother dear. How pleasant it is to see you. I assume you know why you are here?" Mycroft stood before me in the warmth of his house.

"Just let me in Mycroft."


	7. Anthea, Mycroft and Sherlock in One

Mycroft opened the door further and stepped aside, allowing me to come in. I showed myself to the living room where I sat down in Mycroft's chair and poured myself a cup of hot tea from the tea pot and empty cup and saucer.

"Brother, one day you'll have manners." Mycroft spoke far too formal around me. I didn't like it at all.

"Like you have them Mycroft. Your politeness is an act." I scoffed.

"But look how well I'm doing." He tilted his head to the side showing how 'happy' he was with his life. When in reality he's far too lonely.

"Just lecture me about John already." I dismissed his previous comment and started to urge him to finish so that I could go home again.

"Sherlock, I am sure that you are aware that recently John has been seeing a woman named Mary. Am I correct? Well, since you were informed on this fact, you have been acting remarkably strange-,"

"I'm not gay."

"I never said you were."

"You were implying it-,"

"Sherlock, let me speak? I think it is time that you stopped caring about John's relationships with other people. He already has a special place for you in his heart. You're his best friend and Mary won't replace that. Arguing with John will not help to improve your relationship with him Sherlock. He still isn't fully over you faking your death. I suggest that you stay with me for a while. Just to give you and John a little separation. That way, you'll both know how much you mean to each other. You won't take your relationship with him for granted anymore."

Throughout Mycroft's speech I was rolling my eyes and sighing. Although, I must admit, I thought his idea made a lot of sense.

"Fine. You already have Anthea picking up my things anyway. I'll go to the guest room that you've already prepared and make myself at home, shall I?"

"Fine Sherlock, but it seems you made yourself at home a while ago." Mycroft eyed the chair I was sitting in the teacup that I had drank from.

"Oh thank you for the tea. I'll have another upstairs please?" And I then made my way up the three flights of stairs in order to travel to the room that I was staying in.

It did not take long (well 6.25 minutes to be exact) before Anthea knocked on my bedroom door with a large bag that John had packed for me.

"He's been generous with what he has given you." Anthea said, still staring at her BlackBerry Curve, "He could've given you a lot less than that… Ooh he must like you Mr Holmes!" Anthea teased and with that, she turned and half jogged down the hallway. How women run in heels… I do not know.

The bedroom had been made to look like my teenage room when I lived with my parents. There were light blue walls that matched the bedding. All of the furniture in the room was made from the best quality oak Mycroft could find. The room was fairly large. I say 'fairly', the room was twice as big as the one I owned in 221B.

My phone alerted me of another text.

'Dinner's at half past 5

-MH'

'Mycroft why on Earth are you texting me? I'm upstairs!

-SH'


	8. Diary of John H Watson

"I trust that your room is suitable?" Mycroft asked at the diner table. He always sat at the head of the table. I guess some people just never get out of childhood habits.

"You've always found yourself superior haven't you Mycroft?" I ignored his question as Mycroft knows that my bedroom is the least-used room in the house. When I am on a case, which is always, I do not sleep. Why would I need my bedroom to be suitable? It's just a place to sleep. Even then you're not looking at it. You're unconscious.

"Sherlock, I've told you before that I always seem to be surrounded by goldfish. When I'm with you… I seem… Happier let's say. I am superior, even to you my brother." Mycroft spoke calmly and relaxed, he'd revised this speech beforehand.

"Do you love me Mycroft?" I teased my brother. We always had that sort of relationship, "Why isn't there any food- Mycroft you have servants?!" A young man approached my empty plate and started to dish out a small ladle of soup.

"My dear brother, this is why you should visit more often!" Mycroft announced, "Thank you David, that will be all." Mycroft smiled at David, a genuine smile, and David left the dining room to return to the kitchen.

"How many servants do you have?" I asked Mycroft. I sounded straight to the point.

"David and Jenna." Mycroft responded, his eyes now fixed on his soup, "They were homeless and needed a job. I pay them fairly Sherlock. They'll move out when they have enough money to be getting along with." Mycroft smiled at me… again and continued with his soup.

Mycroft and I sat in silence for the rest of the dinner.

I excused myself when I finished dessert and made my way to my room. On the second floor I was held up by Anthea, who wished me goodnight before she left for home.

Once I was on my own I changed into my best pyjamas that John had packed for me and slid into the queen-sized bed. It was then that I noticed a small leather book on my bedside table. It looked old. It looked wrecked.

The lamp on my bedside table was still lit, so I reached across to pick up the book.

'Diary of Doctor John H Watson.'


	9. Nightmares and Tracksuits

I did not realize how late it was until I finished day 23 in John's Diary. The way the doctor wrote was so catching that I was completely unaware of the time. I yawned, which was unusual, and checked the time '2:30'.

I raised my eyebrows at the clock, making sure what I was seeing was real, "Wow." I muttered to myself. I switched the lamp on the bedside table off, placed John's Diary on the table and turned over in the bed. I pulled the duvet up to my chin. A bed always seems more comfortable in the early hours of the morning. I then fell asleep almost instantly.

Drifting

"Sherlock?! Oh my! Sherlock are you ok?!"

Mycroft's voice seemed miles away but I wasn't focusing on that now. I was, once again, screaming and sweating, I was also crying.

I felt Mycroft's arms wrap around me and slowly rock me back and forth. My brother was also hushing me. "What happened Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, his voice seemed reassuring.

"Mycroft, what's happening to me?" My voice was shaking, "I feel so weak."

"Dreams Sherlock, you can't always control them, you're not weak brother." Like Mycroft knew. I doubt he even dreams at all. He's somehow learnt to block them out.

"I should not be affected this badly Mycroft." Mycroft continued to comfort me for about 15 minutes. We used to be like this as we were growing up. We used to be so close.

"We should go for a run, Sherlock, to take your mind off things." Mycroft suggested. He's never been the sporty type, but I knew he usually preferred to get into shape... Even though he does like his cake.

"Yeah. Ok. Whatever." I pushed Mycroft away from me and he left my room silently.

I searched through my suitcase until I found what I was looking for... My track suit.


	10. Brutal Betrayal

Its not like me to go running, I usually kept fit by sword fighting in 221B.

Mrs Hudson doesn't let me anymore.

So you must understand, that under such strange circumstances, running and attempting to make contact with me elder brother failed miserably.

"So Sherlock, what did you dream of?" Mycroft asked calmly as he jogged down the field in such a graceful manner.

"Like you don't already know." I muttered. Mycroft knows everything about anyone just by looking at them, its not hard to guess what I dreamt of.

"It's unusual for Sherlock Holmes to be afraid of memories." Mycroft replied casually, in almost an arrogant tone, he always thinks he's superior.

"Its unusual for Mycroft Holmes to cradle me whilst I cried, everyone has strange days don't they brother?" Mycroft could easily detect my sarcasm, but I refused to look at him and instead focused on the trail ahead of me.

"Let's stop here for a moment," Mycroft paused for a while whilst he caught his breathe, "You need to get this checked out Sherlock. No one is supposed to be shot in the head and survive it. It's impossible."

"John explained that it was made to seem as if I was being shot. I was actually just hit across the head with a gun."

Mycroft's face flooded with sorrow and sympathy "No Sherlock you were shot. I'm sorry ok?" I couldn't be sure what he was doing but the expression on his face had started to look mournful. "I am so, so, sorry Sherlock. I have no choice."

It was at that moment when I felt brutal portrayal for the first time.

Bang.

"Forgive me Sherlock. Oh God forgive me." Mycroft was crying. Probably due to the explosion that had just sounded from his handgun. No. John's hand gun.

"It's ok. I understand." I started to fall backwards, I felt as if I was flying down a spiral staircase, leading towards a new mystery. A new life. A new era. I'm going to start again in Heaven.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.


	11. Waking Up

"You're awake." John muttered, matter-of-fact like.

"What?" I mumbled back, hardly able to speak.

"You're awake." John could keep his straight face any longer, "Aha! You're awake! I thought I'd lost you Sherlock but you're awake!" To to my left I observed a very large monitor connected to many wires and tubes, that were connected to my arms.

"What are these?" I spat, "Take them off me." To my right there was a window, a small window with large, white blinds, and a familiar face peeking through, "And tell him to come in."

John sighed,"I'm afraid I can't allow visitors to see you yet, you've just woken up and I need to see if you're ok." John started fiddling with a few buttons on the monitor to my right.

"I'm sorry John, have you changed Hospitals? You aren't this qualified are you? And why are you wearing white? You never wear white!" I started to chuckle at how John cared for me so much, that he took the position of being my Doctor whilst I was asleep.

"Sherlock, I don't think you understand..." John Watson started to speak but I cut him off before he could finish.

"I knew I was your best friend John, but to take a risk like this!"

"Sherlock, I don't know you, I've never spoken to you in my life. You're my first proper patient though. I'm trying not to mess up. Go to sleep please."

"John? What?" My heart sunk as I understood what was going on, "You were the last face I saw before I fell asleep..." I started to explain, "I started to fit you into parts of my life... You were never real?" I questioned.

John Watson shook his head before leaving the room silently.

My entire life was a lie. Well, my exciting life. I started to feel tears forming, my eyes became moist, I'm still in my boring life.

'I'm sorry John.' I muttered, 'I'm so sorry.'


	12. New Beginnings

The next time I awoke was when Mycroft Holmes was stood besides my bed, whispering my name softly.

"I assume you have an explanation for all this?" Mycroft muttered matter-of-factly to my still awaking body.

"Yes." I replied dully, depression hitting me, realisation hitting me, "I was shot. I don't know how I survived but I was shot and went into, as you can observe, a coma. In my coma I was dreaming, Mycroft. My life, I dreamt my life again. Doctor John Hamish Watson was my best friend. We solved cases, he blogged about it. I woke up and I wasn't prepared for this. Life. I want to go back to how it was before. In my dreams. With John."

Mycroft sighed and edged closer to my bed, resting a hand on my leg, "You'll get through this Sherlock, you always do. Perhaps it's time to give up your career as being an author, and focus on what you have always wanted to do. Detect." Mycroft smirked slightly at the thought of this little brother becoming a respected detective.

"I'd like that, yeah, I'd like that a lot." I knew that my books, that were written in third person, were starting to scare people. In all my books I was a detective, and a good one at that, and I was able to solve anything.

"I can't guarantee anything about John though." Mycroft sighed, "I'll mention your name on the way out. Be nice though Sherlock. You wont get friends otherwise."

Mycroft left my room and went to speak to my Doctor, John. I had nothing to do. I could stare into space, or I could start a conversation, with John.

"John!" No reply, "John! Johhnie~~" A slow walk could be heard nearing my bed.

"Mr William Sherlock Holmes, am I correct?"

"Sherlock. Just Sherlock."

"Well, Sherlock. How would you like going for a coffee later? I'd like to discuss these dreams of yours!"

A smile spread across my face, he was being serious!

"I'd love too!" I said, sounding full of happiness, "Ahh! Dreams…"


End file.
